Forgiveness
by Bob J Montonelli
Summary: Post-Pilot Episode, Joe muses on forgiveness and his brother, Lou. SlashIncest


Title: Forgiveness  
  
Author: Bob J Montonelli  
  
Pairing: Joe Renato/Lou Renato  
  
Rating: hard R, soft NC-17  
  
Summary: Post-ep for the pilot. Joe and Lou have a talk. And  
  
thensome.  
  
Warning(s): Incest. Capitol I. I-N-C-E-S-T. Incest.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. CBS', Chris Haddock's. Be fun to own Lou,  
  
though.  
  
  
  
Joe Renato has been staring at the ceiling for forty-six minutes, at  
  
least by his bedside clock. Hands behind his head, just staring,  
  
and thinking.  
  
//"Please forgive me. I'm sorry for what I did."//  
  
Funny how it was him saying that once, or something like it. Funny  
  
how it was him pleading for forgiveness one night in their bed in  
  
the old apartment, when ma was asleep and pop was still alive. When  
  
the apartment was so small they had to share a bed, and one night a  
  
kiss.  
  
He remembers it so damn clear, like it wasn't twenty-five years  
  
ago. Remembers it like yesterday, he does.  
  
//"Lou, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, will you stay?"  
  
"I'll stay if you do it again."//  
  
Remembers how warm he was when they couldn't afford to heat the  
  
house and eat at the same time. Remembers how his long fingers  
  
would dig deep into his hair and pull his scalp. Remembers the  
  
taste of his skin, his lips, every inch of his body.  
  
Remembers the first time when Lou didn't push him away. Remembers  
  
being fifteen and every nerve in his body on fire, praying to god  
  
that his parents wouldn't wake up and praying he would be forgiven,  
  
praying he wouldn't go to hell if he had the brains not to tell the  
  
priest at confession.  
  
No one noticed. No one cared. They were just two brothers, two  
  
close brothers who knew where their loyalties lay. No one ever  
  
knew. Not even ma knew, and poppo would've killed them.  
  
Ain't it funny, how life works? Turning around, shifting the  
  
tables. Ain't it funny, Joe's thinking, how I was always searching  
  
to be forgiven for what I did, and now here's Lou asking me that  
  
same damn question.  
  
How could he refuse his brother?  
  
He's never once turned him away, never once refused the plea of  
  
those pretty blue eyes.  
  
//"I love you. I'll always love you."//  
  
How could he have said it? He never said it before.  
  
He never had to, though. They had known it, before Lou went away,  
  
somehow they'd just known, through kiss and touch and touch and go,  
  
that love was there, even if unspoken.  
  
"I forgive you." He whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and  
  
he's not even sure it makes it past his lips. "I forgive you."  
  
"I thought you might."  
  
The low voice startles him. Right, Lou. Lou standing in the  
  
doorway of his bedroom, looking like a little kid in the shadows and  
  
moonlight. All lost like that. And how the hell *did* he know that  
  
he'd forgive him?  
  
Oh, right. He's his brother.  
  
"I work for the FBI," Joe mutters, scrubbing his face tiredly, "I  
  
shouldn't be that easy to see through."  
  
"I know you," Lou whispers, and Joe hears the shuffle-scuffle of  
  
sock on floor boards. "I know you better than any of those lowlifes  
  
*ever* could." So vehement. Sounding so stupidly, damningly young,  
  
even though he's not.  
  
"You callin' my agents lowlifes?" He cracks, but then Lou's  
  
turning, like to leave, and he can't let him leave again-"Wait-Lou.  
  
Shit. Lou, wait-that's...that's not what I meant." He sighs. "Come  
  
on. Sit down. Please."  
  
Lou comes in and sits, far from Joe, too far, making the cheap old  
  
bed creak with the extra weight. He looks painfully thin from this  
  
angle, and Joe can just hear their grandmother, years ago, taking a  
  
look at both of them, welfare-fed and half-wild and waving her spoon  
  
with a "Mangia! Mangia! Eat, boys, eat!" He supposes it must be  
  
prison, and prison food, and makes a mental note to go see ma as  
  
soon as possible. With nonna dead, she's the next best thing.  
  
"I'm sorry, Lou." He braces himself to apologize again. For  
  
everything he's ever done. He's the big brother. He's supposed to  
  
take care of Lou.  
  
"Joe?" Lou asks, scuffling the floor again. A silly nervous  
  
gesture he's always had, even when they were kids. "How come  
  
whenever we're together, we always end up apologizin'?"  
  
Joe sighs. Lou's right, of course. It always comes to happen.  
  
Always. "I dunno, Lou."  
  
"I missed you, Joey." Using the diminutive that can be at any given  
  
time an endearment, an aggravation, or frighteningly arousing. Now,  
  
though...after seven years away, he doesn't quite know what to make of  
  
it. Nor of Lou curling in on himself, scooting back on the bed and  
  
pulling his knees up to his chin. He gives a sidelong glance at  
  
Joe, as if expecting-disappointment? Rejection?-"I really missed  
  
you."  
  
"I missed you too," he says. How could he not? They were...so much  
  
to each other.  
  
"I really am sorry. For what I did. I really am...I swear." And now  
  
he's rigid, staring straight ahead, mouth drawn tight and down, so  
  
taut he's shaking. Shaking like bad memories and the barrel of a  
  
gun pointed right at you. It hurts Joe to see it, hurts him right  
  
to the core, like a screwdriver taking a chunk out of his  
  
heart. "I'll be good. This time, I will Joey. I will. I'll be  
  
good. You *know* I will."  
  
"Hey. Hey, Lou, it's okay," he soothes, reaching a hand out to touch  
  
Lou's arm. "I know. You'll be fine. We'll find you a job tomorrow.  
  
A good job, you'll see." He can see the look on Lou's face and  
  
knows it clear from memory and his own experience. The struggle not  
  
to cry, forcing back unmanly tears.  
  
Lou swallows hard and looks right at him, eyes glistening. "Don't  
  
you gotta work?"  
  
"I can be late." For you. "Marcy can cover." For you, little  
  
brother. He thinks. Because I love you, I can be late.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm makin' ya' do all this, Joey."  
  
"Hey," he grins, "what're brothers for?" A line they've traded  
  
before, in the dark, in whispers of skin and voice. Joe rubs Lou's  
  
taut arm gently, soothingly.  
  
Lou smiles at him, a little quirk of the lips. Joe is up on his  
  
knees now, stroking Lou's jet-black hair, leaning in, close, closer,  
  
to touch, lips meeting in a soft snowflake lambswool brush, then  
  
darting deeper, seven years of broken pieces coming together, and  
  
this feels so good, so right, so safe. Lou unfolds his lanky body  
  
and wraps his arms around Joe's neck, pushes him back down amidst  
  
the comforter and sheets, all the while Joe kissing like he wants to  
  
swallow Lou's mouth.  
  
God, it's been so damned *long*...  
  
"I *missed* you..." Lou repeats, a fierce mantra, "I missed *you*, so  
  
bad, so damn bad Joey..."  
  
"I know, Lou, I know..." he moans, gritting his teeth when Lou kisses  
  
his neck, his chin, throat, collarbone... "I...I...missed you too..." he  
  
gasps out. He knows he has to let Lou take this over, at least  
  
tonight, because Lou needs it, needs to be safe and in control  
  
again. He doesn't know what happened in prison, and it's not that  
  
he doesn't care. He does. But he's not going to ask, and that's  
  
not for right now, that's for Lou to decide, right now, oh, right  
  
now...  
  
Right now he's gonna lie back and let Lou take this over.  
  
And Lou does, with abandon. Just like when they were kids, except...  
  
no. Just a little slower, a little gentler. The eagerness is  
  
there, hot and sweaty like the old playground slide in the summer,  
  
but tempered. And then Joe gets it-Lou wants this to last. Wants  
  
it a memory with a capitol M, the kind you revisit when you've got  
  
nothing left to hold onto. He feels hot wetness on his chest that  
  
has nothing to do with saliva, and it freezes him. Lou's crying  
  
now, soundlessly, shoulders hitching with each kiss he plants on  
  
bare skin.  
  
"Hey. Easy, Lou. I'm right here. I love you. I ain't leaving."  
  
He wraps his arms around Lou's back and rubs like he did when they  
  
were kids and Lou would wake up from a nightmare and ma and poppo  
  
were too exhausted from work to come and help. Back then, hell, it  
  
was all he knew how to do.  
  
He can do so much now, that he couldn't then.  
  
"I missed you." Lou kisses him on the mouth, warm and salt from  
  
tears, eyes open, blue on blue.  
  
"I know."  
  
Lou lies straight out beside him, and runs a hand up and down his  
  
chest. He smiles through tears receding like snow in springtime.  
  
He sniffles a little. The smile takes a familiarly predatory turn,  
  
one Joe has seen before, one he can deal with.  
  
"I want you." He murmurs. "Only you."  
  
Another kiss, backed with seven years of hungry waiting, a dry-eyed,  
  
warm and loving and honest kiss.  
  
Joe knows, he *knows* it will never be like this with any of his  
  
wives, never was and cannot be.  
  
Lou draws slow circles on Joe's chest through the thin fabric of his  
  
undershirt, mouth never once unlocking from his brother's, stroking  
  
and groping and feeling old, tarnished memories come silver and  
  
shine again. He slides his hand under the waistband of Joe's boxers  
  
and drags his nails through a thick thatch of pubic hair, then grips  
  
his cock and jerks him off, slow and easy-like, feeling Joe moan  
  
into his mouth, vibrate his lips with muffled cries, jerking hard  
  
and relaxing after a bare few minutes.  
  
Joe touches him back, and his chest is bare, bared to Joe's hungry  
  
tongue and lips and teeth, and it's been so damned long that he  
  
comes in his shorts and feels almost like a fool except he can't,  
  
not here, not now. And not with Joe looking at him all doe-soft in  
  
the moonlight, bending down to give him a dragon's breath kiss,  
  
wrapping his arms tight around him, kissing his hair, his face,  
  
anywhere he can touch.  
  
"I love you, Lou. Don't you ever forget that."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Lou?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I forgive you."  
  
He smiles, shifts and curls up under the comforter with Joe tangled  
  
around him. "I thought you might." 


End file.
